


Dr Watson's Birthday

by Small_Hobbit



Series: Sussex Retirement [4]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: M/M, Retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 06:33:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4777142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is Watson's birthday, but Holmes does no more than acknowledge the date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dr Watson's Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ's Older Not Dead, Colours Challenge, prompt White Lies

Holmes and I are not much given to outward displays of affection and certainly have not been in the habit of buying each other expensive gifts. However, I had to admit to a slight sense of disappointment when the morning of my birthday arrived, and Holmes did not present me with a present at all. He had not forgotten the date, for when I came downstairs for breakfast he had ensured there was a jar of my favourite jam to go with my toast, and he wished me all the best for the day as he kissed me.

I had noticed him speaking to Seth a few days previously and our gardener had looked up slightly guiltily when he heard my approach. Holmes’ expression, of course, had not changed; he could have been plotting high treason or discussing the weather and one would be none the wiser. I had seen a particularly beautiful magnolia bush in a garden in the village and had expressed a wish to Holmes to plant one in our own garden. I had thought, perhaps, Holmes would have acted on the suggestion and approached Seth in this respect, but he made no mention of it.

I was slightly cheered when the morning post brought me two letters. The first was from the Lestrades. Lestrade himself wrote he would have a drink or two in honour of my birthday and his wife had added she would ensure it was no more than two. I am not sure she has entirely forgiven me for the year he and I had rather exuberantly celebrated the date and he had subsequently fallen down the steps of the public house and made a large hole in the knee of one of his better pairs of trousers.

The other letter was from Hopkins. He sent his best wishes and enclosed a picture of a flower drawn by his oldest daughter especially for me. It was a bright yellow flower of indeterminate variety which I placed on the mantelpiece.

The letters and drawing had suitably cheered me and I looked forward to lunch. Mrs Hudson had always ensured there was something special on my birthday and although I did not expect Mrs Maiden, our daily housekeeper who also cooked our midday meal, to know the date, I thought Holmes would have suggested to her she cook one of my favourite meals.

I was therefore disappointed when lunch turned out to be cold meat and potatoes. On top of which Mrs Maiden, who was generally of a sunny disposition, today spent a considerable time glaring at Holmes, which led to a rather uncomfortable meal.

After lunch I resumed my chair in anticipation of Seth’s usual visit. However, even there I was to find myself disappointed, for the time came and went and he had not appeared. Instead Holmes remarked he presumed Seth’s rheumatism had got the better of him and suggested I walk down to the village to call on him. I was not aware Seth was suffering from rheumatism, he had certainly made no mention of it to me, but nonetheless I agreed I would go; anything was better than remaining in the cottage in my current mood.

Accordingly, I found my stick, and just as I was leaving Holmes called out to ask me to drop in at Mr Fletcher’s to collect a tool he had ordered. I agreed to do so and set off down the lane. It was a crisp autumn afternoon and the sun, although not particularly warm, was shining. The bushes were full of fruit and many of the trees were changing colour so the walk was extremely pleasant.

Upon my arrival in the village I called first at Fletcher’s, to be told the tool would not be ready until later in the week, which Holmes knew. I could feel my earlier frustration starting to return, but pushed it to the back of my mind as I walked round to Seth’s cottage. However, even that purpose was defeated, for there was nobody at home.

I turned to start the walk back to the cottage, but fortunately the carter saw me. “Can I give you a lift back?” he asked.

My temper was such I considered declining the offer and stomping back up the hill, but my leg was starting to twinge and I knew it would be considerably more painful if I didn’t accept the ride. The carter drove back at an extremely leisurely pace, but it made no difference to me, for I had no further plans for the day.

As we drew up outside the cottage I was surprised to see Arthur, Seth’s younger grandson, come running out to assist me down.

“Are you coming in, Mr Austen?” Arthur asked.

“Not at the moment,” the carter replied. “I’ll be back later, so I’ll call in then.”

This exchange left me more confused. Arthur offered me his arm, but I told him I wasn’t yet in need of that much help, even if I used a walking stick. I should have added there was nothing wrong with my hearing either, as the lad muttered, “Just as perverse as Grandad.”

I did however permit him to open the front door for me, which was as well, since I came to a sudden halt as I entered the cottage.

I had expected to find Holmes on his own, but instead Seth, Ellen and William were also there, as was Mrs Maiden, who to my surprise had not yet left.

“Happy Birthday, Doctor,” Seth called out.

“Thank you very much.” I went into the sitting room, to see afternoon tea laid out ready on the table.

“Excellent timing, Watson,” Holmes said. “Mrs Maiden has just boiled the kettle.”

It is very many years since I last had a birthday tea, so this was a very pleasant surprise. Mrs Maiden had done us proud and I confess to have eaten rather more jam tarts and slices of fruit cake than were perhaps good for me. But one only celebrates one’s birthday once a year.

Once we had finished eating, Seth and I wandered into the garden where we discussed the best location for the magnolia bush Holmes had indeed ordered for me. Then Austen arrived back with the dog cart, and after being persuaded to come in and have a slice of cake, took our visitors back down to the village.

Holmes and I settled back in our usual armchairs and I sighed contentedly. “Thank you for arranging everything,” I said.

“Not at all, dear boy,” he replied. “I trust the afternoon has not exhausted you too much. I had hoped we might continue the entertainment during the evening.”

“I may have celebrated being a year older,” I replied, “but do not imagine I have lost any of the energy I had for you the other night. I accept Arthur may consider me ancient, but if I recall correctly it was you who started to flag.”

Holmes gave a bark of laughter. “Are you issuing me with a challenge, Watson?”

I merely raised my eyebrows and said, “I leave you to deduce that yourself, my dear Holmes.”

 


End file.
